


respite

by DuendeJunior, opemjamjar



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Don’t copy to another site, Intimacy, M/M, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-29 05:48:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17802176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuendeJunior/pseuds/DuendeJunior, https://archiveofourown.org/users/opemjamjar/pseuds/opemjamjar
Summary: A relaxing interlude in the life of Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov.





	respite

**Author's Note:**

> WE DID IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> Here's the collab between me and the wonderful OJJ for the Valentine's Day event at the WeWriteVictuuri server (I did the writing and he did the arting). Thank you so much for being my partner in this event <3  
> and thank you [Basia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedstill) and [Nora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agasthiya) for letting us use your usernames in the edit at the end sdhflshldfkhdlk

 

 

“Everything alright, babe?” Victor asks, looking at their shared reflection in the mirror. They’re sharing the small bench in front of Victor’s vanity and it’s a tight fit, but it’s warm where they’re connected from knee to arm, and Yuuri wouldn’t trade this for the world. “You just made a face.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yuuri answers, setting the bottle of toner he’d been using down on a small space they managed to clear. The vanity is covered in bottles and jars and a variety of colorful packages, and Victor has been making good on his promise to teach Yuuri how to use them all. “Toner just tastes bad, that’s all.” That’s what you get, he guesses, when you try to lick your lips while spraying your own face with chemical products.

Victor snorts, and the way his nose scrunches up is unfairly attractive. “I’m sorry.” Being a smart man, he rubs a circle on Yuuri’s back over his robe, instead of kissing him. The movement soothes the pinch between Yuuri’s brows.

With a final pat, Victor turns his attention back to the beauty products and reaches to his right to pull a long blue tube from a basket filled with other long tubes. “Ready for the clay?” he asks.

Yuuri counts the steps in his mind: wash your face, open the pores, cleanse it, apply toner, then the clay mask. “Yes.”

He has to turn around so Victor can apply the face mask on him without contorting too much. It’s a bit of a struggle on the little bench, but they sort it out.

Victor smiles and touches Yuuri’s lips when they’re seated again. Yuuri presses a small kiss to his fingertip, and his smile grows, heart-shaped.

He pops the cap on the tube, applies a generous amount on a large brush, and starts sweeping it across Yuuri’s face. The clay feels pleasantly cold against Yuuri’s skin, and its smell reminds him of the morning breeze by the sea. Victor’s brushstrokes are clean and sure, the mark of an experienced hand.

Victor repeats the process two more times and turns Yuuri’s head this way and that before he deems the result up to his standards.

Yuuri bites the inside of his cheek not to laugh when he turns his head to look in the mirror – it might be good for the skin and whatnot, but it looks so goofy. A snort escapes him.

Victor tilts his head.

“Sorry,” Yuuri says. “It’s just…” He makes a vague gesture towards the mirror.

The corner of Victor’s lips quirk up again. “I know, right?”

They have to move again so Victor can look in the mirror to apply it on himself. Yuuri has offered to do it for him before, and the rejection had stung back then, but time has made him see it’s something of a ritual for Victor, something he likes doing for himself, just like Yuuri sometimes prefers being alone at the rink to decompress. It doesn’t mean he wouldn’t trust Yuuri with his life in any other scenario.

Soon enough they’re matching again, from their hair clips holding their bangs up to the fluffy slippers on their feet.

“What now?” Yuuri asks.

“Now we wait…” Victor looks at the instructions. “About ten minutes.”

Yuuri lets out a small “hmm”. The clay is still moist on his skin, but he’s already a little afraid to move and ruin the entire mask.

Victor touches his hand, his eyes lighting up. “Can we run a bath after this?” He squeezes a little. “It’s been a while.”

Yuuri turns his palm up, entwining their fingers. “Of course.”

“So, can you check on Makkachin while I get it ready?”

Yuuri nods.

 

 

They meet again in the bathroom about eleven minutes later. Makkachin was still sleepy from their outing in the park earlier in the day, and her food and water bowls were full, so Yuuri just sat down beside her on the couch and petted her exposed belly until the mask started turning rigid.

Victor is trying to choose between lavender or cherry-scented bubble baths when he gets there. He raises both on Yuuri’s direction. Yuuri points at the lavender one, and Victor nods.

“Would you rather rinse everything in the shower?” Victor asks, setting both packages down. “Or do you want to go the damp washcloth route?”

“Does it make a big difference?”

Victor purses his lips. “I’ve never noticed any.”

“Your choice, then,” Yuuri shrugs.

They end up under the shower. The water is lukewarm – it has to be – but the feeling of Victor’s hands on his face more than makes up for it. Then Victor’s fingers are massaging his scalp after he offers to wash Yuuri’s hair, and Yuuri has to steel himself lest his legs become jelly.

And this time he can return the favor, savoring Victor’s little sighs of pleasure as Yuuri rubs shampoo on his silver locks, made darker by the water.

Victor kisses him when they’re done, slow and sensual, his lips and tongue fanning a flame inside Yuuri. His hands settle on Yuuri’s waist, and when he stops to turn off the shower so they can go to the bathtub, Yuuri lets out a disappointed whine.

There’s a smile on Victor’s lips when he turns on the taps and lets the bubble bath work its magic.

Under the dimmed bathroom lights, the bubbles that cover the surface of the water are iridescent little jewels, sticking to the skin of their calves as they enter the bathtub. It’s a circular one, custom-made and big enough to fit two people, and Yuuri has never dared to ask how much it cost, but deep down he’s glad Victor went the distance.

Victor goes first, sinking to his collarbones in hot water, and the sound he makes is sweet music to Yuuri’s ears.

Yuuri enters right after, and lets out a small hiss when his toes touch the hot surface. The first contact is always the hardest part, but soon enough his body starts craving more.

He sits down between Victor’s legs, his back against the firm muscles of his chest. The bubbles close around them as they settle, surrounding them with their lavender scent. Delicate. Cleansing.

He closes his eyes and breathes deep.

It’s one of those moments where his mind quietens, the worried chatter that’s often loud and incessant reduced to a barely-there murmur, unimportant when compared to lavender-scented bubbles and Victor’s slick fingertips trailing a path on his skin. Odd, how both the ice and a hot bath can elicit the same feelings.

He turns around to rest his head in the curve of Victor’s neck, nuzzling at the juncture. Victor’s lips soon are touching his wet hair, his forehead, the bridge of his nose. His fingers, light as butterfly wings, run along Yuuri’s bare arm, raising goosebumps in their wake.

Yuuri hums, a satisfied sound in the back of his throat.

“Good?” Victor asks. The bubbles fizzle and pop against their skin, like champagne. It makes Yuuri think of the bottle on the back of their fridge. Maybe they can open it later. They deserve it.

Yuuri smiles.

“Very,” he says, as he tilts his head to kiss Victor’s answering grin.

 


End file.
